


Ambient Light

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Jim has had a day of press-conferences and meetings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambient Light

**Author's Note:**

> **Summary** : Up in space, when it's just them in a tin can, McCoy is content. But back on earth for a press & brass tour, he is reminded of everything that Jim Kirk is: a Star.  
>  **Contains** : Enough cheesiness that I hope you brought crackers. A nod to a small part of this story. And probably typos, which you are very welcome to point out, as always.

"Oh my _fucking_ Christ, what a long day." Jim strips his dress uniform shirt off as soon as the suite's door has snicked shut behind him, walking across the space as though he owns the place even though they've only been there for a few days.

McCoy doesn't need to look up from where he's reading on the couch. He really doesn't. He's the seen that chest a thousand times, bruised and bleeding and scrubbed and everything in between. He's licked the whole damn thing a few times over if he's being perfectly honest—

"Hey, there." Jim grins at him.

McCoy blinks. Damn it, he'd looked up, and now Jim's right in front of him, shirtless and rumpled but somehow looking even better for it.

Starfleet's Golden Boy is shining so bright McCoy waits for the sneeze.

"Hi," he says instead, shifting his eyes back to his reading.

"What's that look for?" Jim asks as he walks over to the closet, undoing his pants as he goes.

"What look?" His eyes aren't tracking Jim's movements. Nope. It's just that the thing he was reading was so incredibly boring that he can't help it if his mind wanders.

Jim shrugs and reaches for his sweats where they're in a pile on the floor from the morning. "You looked kind of—I dunno, pained there for a minute." He smirks as he shoves some PADDs out of the way to settle down next to McCoy. "Constipated."

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Watch those, they're—"

"Seriously, Bones, I know the government doesn't pay _that_ well but I can buy you new toys if I break them. I can probably find someone who has another copy of—" He stops, staring down at the PADD in his hand. "What the hell?"

McCoy's face flushes. He refuses to give in to his impulse to yank the PADD out of Jim's hand like they're five. "'s nothing."

Kirk ain't buyin it. "You're reading up on me."

He can feel Jim training that genius eagle gaze on him. He scowls. "So what."

"And you're mad at me."

"That's ridiculous."

"But true. Your jaw is doing that thing it does."

McCoy grunts, not looking away from the words that he's not reading. He pops his jaw insolently. Kirk laughs, and he feels himself tighten up even more.

The laugh fades. "Bones?"

"How was your day of idolatry?"

Jim's brows draw together and he lowers the PADD. "Exhausting. Running the press and ole boys circuit always wears me the fuck out. Which is why I was hoping to come home and have some 'long day at the office' sex." He kicks at Bones' knee gently. "But whatever. Why were you reading these?"

"I wasn't."

"Bones." The foot nudges against McCoy's leg again. "Help me out, here. I'm not psychic."

"No?" he says, too sharply but he can't stop it. "That's not on your list of fine qualities?"

And suddenly he's not holding the PADD anymore. Instead he has a lapful of Jim. And Jim's not exactly petite, and he's boney as hell, but McCoy feels his traitorous hands sliding around to cup Kirk's ass anyways.

And Jim's eyes are on him. "What. The fuck. Is wrong."

He yanks his gaze away. "Doesn't matter. I have to read these—"

Jim's hands press down on his chest. "It does too fucking matter. And no, you don't, at least not right now. Right now you need to answer my question."

Bones feels his jaw start to tic again. "I talked to Joanna today, is all."

"And?"

"And nothing."

Jim shakes his head a little. "Not an answer, old man. I can comm her and find out, but it's a school night so I'd rather not."

Bones can't answer. He knows he can't or it'll be ugly.

"I can be just as goddamn stubborn as you, McCoy," Jim drawls deliberately.

Maybe it's the use of his name, who knows, but McCoy's had enough. He pulls up and shoves Jim back down on the couch beside him, then snatches his PADD back up again, his face taut. "Joanna comm'd me because she'd read in one of her damned magazines that you'd gone and told some reporter that you were off the market and she figured I would know who had finally snagged the great hottie Jim Kirk."

Jim laughs openly. "Bet she was surprised."

McCoy flinches. "Yeah."

He feels Jim sit up. "I mean, when you told her."

"Yeah. Now leave me alone."

Jim doesn't say anything for a minute. McCoy's gut curls up in resignation and he re-starts the report in his hands.

"You didn't tell her." Jim's voice is low. "You went and looked it up."

"Jim…"

"No. You didn't tell her, because you still don't want people to know, then you went and looked it up, because you're a scientist and you're thorough and you—You what, found every news report that's been written on me?"

"Well, not _every_ ," McCoy mocks. "There are thousands."

"And? I don't understand, Bones. It's not like you want reporters writing bullshit about you."

"God, no. I'm a doctor, not a pop star."

"Thank Christ." Jim closes in on McCoy, heating up the air between them with his insurmountable energy. "Then _what_?"

McCoy swallows. "Jim, it really doesn't matter. I know I'm not cut out for this—" He waves vaguely at the cursed PADD. "—Or for you, and that's just the way it is—"

Jim captures his hand in a fierce, almost too-tight grip. When McCoy looks at him in surprise, he drops the hand but his eyes are hard. "Who said that?"

"Nobody, I just figured with all the people you've been with—"

"Oh come on, you know half of it's stupid gossip."

McCoy plows on. "—that are glamorous and exciting and undoubtedly eighteen million times better in the sack than some country doctor, so—"

"Dammit, Bones, you're not even listening to me."

"—I knew you'd eventually find one you wanted to be with." He finally pauses. "I just figured you'd have the decency to tell me. I didn't figure I'd have to learn from the media—from my own daughter—that you're 'off the market.'"

Jim has fallen silent. Finally. McCoy feels a powerful emptiness in his chest. "Now go back to your own damn room so I can get some work done in peace."

After a moment, Jim stands, and McCoy bites his tongue against the urge to yank him back down and take it all back, yank him back down and demand that he give him another chance to make him happy, too be whatever it is he needs, because God damn him but he wants to try—

"Yes, this is Jim Kirk and I'm in room 463. I need an outside line."

McCoy twists around, his mouth slightly open.

"Yes, sir."

"Jim, what are you—"

"Computer, personal database, residence of Jocelyn Treadway." McCoy is up off the couch in an instant, but Jim puts up a hand, unmistakably in authority, and McCoy pulls back instinctively anyways when his ex-wife's surprised face fills the screen. "Hi, Ms Treadway, Jim Kirk here. Wondering if I could have a word with your daughter."

"It's past her bedtime."

He flashes one of his smiles. "Promise it won't be long."

"Well." She eyes him one more time. "Is Leonard there?"

"Yes, ma'am, he is."

Another Jim-smile and she's grinning, obviously despite herself. "Well, I suppose a few minutes won't hurt."

That son of a bitch, McCoy thinks. Everybody's a sucker for Jim Kirk.

"Daddy?"

His baby looks sleepy and he immediately steps forward. "Hi, darlin'."

"Hi. What's up? I have school tomorrow, and zero hour is totally early. Are you okay?"

"He's fine," Jim puts in. "He's just a little stubborn."

Jo snorts. "Nuh-uh."

"Yeah, I know, right?"

"What's it this time?"

McCoy opens his mouth. "Well," Jim gets in first, "seems you told him a rumor today."

Her eyes light up. "Oh yeah! A mag said you said that you were seeing somebody and it was super serious and—"

"Oh for the love of—"

"Don't interrupt your daughter, Bones."

"Yeah, Dad," Jo mocks with a giggle. "Anyways, that's really it, it didn't say who but Shelly said she thought it was that actress you were seeing a little bit ago, but I think she's full of—"

"Joanna."

"Sorry. You know." She looks at them eagerly. "So who is it?"

McCoy goes from flabbergasted straight into speechless when Jim slides an unyielding arm around his waist in full view of the screen. "Guess."

Jo throws her hands up. "I knew it!" she crows delightedly. "Can I tell Shelly?"

Jim shakes his head. "Not until your dad says it's okay."

"Bummer. But that's cool, I guess, I'll just—"

McCoy finds his voice. "It's okay."

Jim and Jo both stop short. Jim's hand tightens on his waist.

McCoy clears his throat. He knows his face is red. "It's okay to tell Shelly," he repeats, surprised that it comes out so easy.

She and Jim exchange a look. "Dad," she says as if he's slow, "she'll tell everybody."

"Yes, I realize."

"Bones, you don't have to—"

He puts a staying hand on Jim's shoulder. "Darlin', it's past time for you to be asleep. You'll give us a full report tomorrow, I expect?"

She grins. "Hell yeah."

"Joanna."

"I mean, yeah. Thanks. I—Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm happy for you."

He's got to be red as a fire engine by now. "Hush up and get back to bed. Love you."

"You too. McCoy out."

"Kirk out," Jim says automatically from beside him, and the screen goes blank. "Bones, not that I'm complaining, but what the—"

McCoy shakes his head. "You." He points. "Bed."

Jim grins, but doesn't move. "You told me to leave."

"That was before I knew just what a chickenshit you were being."

"What! Me? You were the one who couldn't just fucking _ask_ me, you had to—"

"You were in meetings!"

"During which you still could have comm'd me! And hello, afterwards!" Jim makes an expansive gesture towards the couch.

McCoy grabs his hand and yanks him in for a bruising kiss. Jim makes a noise in his throat and kisses him back full force, and they're halfway out of clothing and into bed before McCoy pulls back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks quietly, his hand rubbing down Jim's chest.

Jim's still-clothed hips move restlessly against his. "You've been fucked over before. I didn't want to—" McCoy's hand slides under the band of his underwear. "Ah. Pressure you, I didn't want to pressure you. And I know how much you love publicity. Fuck." He pulls McCoy down for a kiss. "So good," he breathes into his mouth. "Better than anyone else, ever."

McCoy snorts. "Sure, kid. All those superstars and heads of state and—"

And then a startled McCoy is on his back, with Jim Kirk diving into his pants. "Listen to me, you stubborn old coot." He manages to get a hand around both their cocks, not moving, just gently squeezing, and McCoy has to stop himself from thrusting like a teenager.

"I'm listening, I'm listening," he grinds out between his teeth. His reaches up for a kiss but Jim denies him. He grimaces.

"I have, indeed, been with many attractive, rich, famous people." Jim's hand starts working, gently but expertly. "And they were often delightful."

"Jim, for Christ's sake, I—"

But Kirk doesn't let him finish. He leans down instead. "That statement was past tense for a reason, Bones," he says, his face so close that McCoy is drowning in heat, in the pleasure from that hand. He hears his own grunt as it builds, and the look on Jim's face is so determined, so—

"This is what I have now. This is what I _want_ now. And whatever it takes to get you to believe that for now and for later and for after that, I will fucking do it."

McCoy wants to press pause, wants to stop and make sure and interrogate and research but fuck, Jim's looking at him like he's found the best toy surprise in the _world_ , and he's not sure he wants to argue any more, and before he can figure it out he's coming all over Jim's hand with Jim's name on his lips. Along with a few choice curse words, and he swears he can hear Jim's ebullient laugh as he comes as well.

After a moment, he reaches out blindly and pulls Jim down to his side, probably crushing him but not giving a damn. "All right, maybe not chickenshit," he mumbles into damp skin.

Jim's chuckle rumbles through them both. "Gee, thanks." Then he pulls back and looks McCoy in the eye, searching. "Do you believe me now?"

McCoy looks right back. It's a choice, he knows, and it's his to make. His heart hammers in his veins as he contemplates taking that long dive. He's done it once, and truth be told he swore he'd never do it again.

But he can't forget that feeling of freefall, of knowing that someone, that the most perfect someone you've yet to meet, is there with you in the most glorious time of your life.

McCoy looks at Jim's face for a few more seconds, at those eyes and that mouth and all that sheer force of will. He swallows, feels his heart thump. Then he touches his lips to Jim's, and jumps. "Yeah, I believe you."

 **  
_FIN_   
**


End file.
